


Losing Delores

by Megpryor



Series: Jed's Journal Entries [4]
Category: The West Wing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26712472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megpryor/pseuds/Megpryor
Summary: It's late on the night he buried Delores Landingham.
Series: Jed's Journal Entries [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943413
Kudos: 2





	Losing Delores

**Losing Delores  
Private Journal Entry of Josiah E. Bartlet – President of the United States**

I can’t believe she’s dead. Delores is dead. Her new car was hit by a drunk driver and she died in the crash. It was her first new car and I asked her to come back here after getting it. That’s what she was doing when that young woman hit her. Hit her car broadside and she was killed. Delores is dead. I keep writing that. I can’t stop myself. It’s too hard to believe it but I have to. Mrs. Landingham is dead now and my life is . . . I don’t know what to write. 

I met her when I was 13. She was my father’s office manager at Phillips Exeter Academy where he was headmaster. We quickly became friends though I’m not sure why or how. Delores was the first person who thought I was different from the other boys and that my difference wasn’t a bad thing. 

My father never liked me and I never knew why. He hit me all the time and it would be very bad on occasion. She was aware of his need to hurt me and she never excused him for it. She also never asked me not to care for him. A lot of people did. Those who saw my dark bruises and knew the pain inflicted by his hand wanted me to run away or report him to the authorities. I couldn’t do that. My mother was already gone and my younger brother Jon needed me to stay. 

Father didn’t hit Jon and that was a puzzle. I love my brother but to be honest we’re not all that close. He escaped the pain and punishments. I thought I was his protector. At least I thought I was. Turned out he was always safe. I was my father’s target. I didn’t know that until much later. I started to blame Jon for all of it. I worked all that out one afternoon while inside a locked grain box. 

Honestly, Jon was treated cruelly but it was all emotional. His abuse was all head games. I thought that the physical and sexual abuse father heaped on me was far worse but now, looking back, I’m not sure. Psychological abuse screws with. your head and doesn’t give you anything to blame it on. I could always blame the hurt and hatred my father forced on me. 

That year I met Delores, he nearly killed me. If she hadn’t been there, I might have died. She got me to a hospital. She and her husband Henry took me to their home when I was released four days later. My stitches were cleaned and cared for several times a day. When I vomited because of the pain, she just changed the bed and brought me clean pajamas. I stayed with her and Henry for several weeks. When it was time for me to go home, she made sure home was safe. She convinced my father he should live at the school. That left me alone at the farm. It worked for a little of the time but he eventually came back and things got more complicated. 

Enough about him. She once called me a boy king. A boy king? Me? It hadn’t occurred to me that I was anything other than a punching bag who got straight As in school. Smart didn’t mean too much to me. It hadn’t saved me. I ignored it mostly. Mrs. Landingham showed me that I could be something other than my father’s definition of me. 

Her office management skills were outstanding. When I was in a position to hire her away from my father, she came immediately and I don’t think he ever forgave me for that. I was a Congressman and away from Abbey and my girls. The separation was hard and the temptation to stray from my vows came often. I wouldn’t do that to Abbey but Mrs. Landingham steered several very pretty vultures from coming on to me. It was funny to see her talk to them about my wedding and how much I love my girls. 

The few times that very adamant women wanted to get close, she would make sure I was busy. Then she’d pretend Abbey was calling me and I’d fake a conversation where I told my darling-not-there-wife how much I loved her. I even pretended to talk to my kids. It got to be a joke between Delores and me. We had fun with that. 

When I left the Federal government, I ran for Governor of my New Hampshire. I’m a very liberal Democrat and New Hampshire is a very conservative state. So was Delores. She didn’t always agree with my politics and that was fine. She did her job brilliantly and my goals were primary for her. On occasion, she’d try to get me to change my mind but that rarely worked. I know that irked her no end. She changed her tactics and started to get on me for things like my diet and disregard for green food. 

I rarely told her that I loved her. That wasn’t the kind of conversation Bartlet males are encouraged to have with anyone. I’m sorry for that. I think she actually knew how I felt. Dear God, I hope so. She claimed that I needed a big sister and I guess I did. I needed some kind of older figure that could raise me. I was too naïve and my mother was not part of my life at all. I didn’t know anything about living up to potential until she took me in. 

Dear God. I keep saying that. I am angry at a God that would take her from me in such a vile way. She was killed. Someone who had too much to drink thought it was okay to drive and T-bone her car. The drunk plowed right into the driver’s seat. And it’s my fault. I wanted her to come back to the White House so I could tell her how I lied to people for eight years now. I should have told her right away but I didn’t want her to get even more mother hen over me. 

I did something today I have never done before. Her service was beautiful, I guess. It was nicely done and it went well. It was a non-denominational service since Delores was pretty much non-denominational. I had nothing to do with arranging it. I couldn’t do it. I asked Charlie to arrange for pall bearers. I’m glad he didn’t include me in that group. I wouldn’t have been able to. I think that disappointed her. I mean, if she could see the service. 

I can get pretty angry and when I do, I blow up at anyone in sight. It’s a character flaw. I have a tendency not to wait for explanations. Mrs. Landingham used to tell me it would get me in trouble someday. Today may have been the day. I got mad at God. 

I had the agents seal the cathedral and began to call Him out. I called my Lord a feckless thug. I felt like He killed Delores to hurt me. He shot Josh to hurt me. He made the Hickory go down to hurt me. Harold Lewis died on the phone with me. He let my father beat me. He didn’t pay any attention to the good things I had done. Taking her from me was just another joke God was playing with me. I could never please my biological father and it seemed like I could never please my Holy Father. 

Delores paid for God wanting to hurt me. Yeah, pretty self-centered. God has better things to do than seek vengeance on me. It’s how I felt though. I can’t say I still don’t feel that way. I can’t catch a break from Him. I just want to serve Him like I wanted to serve my father. All I got from my dad was pain and hurt. I didn’t think God was any different. It was just taking me longer to realize that I was useless and only brought hurt onto people I loved. 

After I told the public about my MS - another thing God visited on me - Leo put me in his office to wait for the press conference. I had to get away from people telling me what to do, who to call on, telling me to relax. I didn’t want anyone at all. I even had Abbey go to the Residence. Too much consumed me including a hurricane was coming up the coast. Just what I had to have bothering me. Even in Washington, we were getting pelted with rain. Oh, well. That's not what this is all about It's about Delores. 

I remembered a time when I was 16 and Mrs. Landingham asked me to intervene on behalf of the women who worked at the Academy. Their salaries were lower than the men and she didn’t think it was fair. She convinced me that she was right and I went to visit my father to bring the situation up to him. It ended up with his backhand slamming into my face. I walked out of his office before doing what she asked and found myself 40 years older and in the Oval. That stupid portico door whipped open and the rain from the hurricane poured into the room. 

I don’t know why, force of habit I suppose, I called out really loudly, “Mrs. Landingham!” The second I heard it I knew what I had done. I needed help and instantly I went to her. 

I know it was in my head but she walked in and bawled me out for not using the intercom. It was all I could do to muster up the courage to tell her I had MS and never told anyone. She didn’t seem all that surprised. There were times I felt she already knew. So many times I wanted her to know. I needed my big sister and keeping my diagnosis quiet was my decision. I didn’t want to think it was a bad decision. Turns out it was. I don’t make mistakes though. If I did, my father would hurt me. I don’t know why I give him that power to control me 15 years after his death. I’m still afraid of him. It’s pathetic. 

Mrs. Landingham asked me to tell her some of the things that need attending by the Presidency. It all came back to me; schools, jail, drugs, poverty, health care. Too much to let someone else worry about. It was still my responsibility. I had decided not to run again since my television confession of multiple sclerosis. It would be like facing my father again and being told how worthless I was. I didn’t want to face it. 

Then she said, “If you don’t want to run, then I respect that. If you don’t run because you think it will be too hard or you might lose, then God Jed, I don’t even want to know you.” She’d thrown out that “I don’t even want to know you” line a few times in my life. It always turned my thoughts around. I didn’t want to live with Delores not wanting to know me. I had to find the courage to do what I knew had to be done. 

God brought her back to me in the Oval. She was always going to be in me and I would always have her. It was a hard learned lesson. My confusion was terrifying and still the way was clear. I had to run again and confront what I had done. I had to face my deception and prove to the people who trusted me that I can still be trusted. 

She walked out past the open portico door where rain sounded like a runaway train barreling into my being. I had to drown my pain. Maybe I had to bring myself to God again. Whatever the reason, I walked out into the storm and let the cold rain pelt down so hard it hurt. It gave me new life. I know, too weird to consider, but it did. 

Charlie said it was time to go and I walked out past her desk that she, of course, wasn’t sitting at. It didn’t matter. She was in me and always will be. I went to the press conference where I didn’t do what CJ asked me to do. She wanted me to call on a reporter who would ask medical questions. I wasn’t going to be safe any longer. I had to face my cover up and it had to start now. 

A news reporter would ask the hardest question first. I called on Sandy. She did what I hoped. Sandy asked if I was going to run again. I could see Delores there smiling when I put my hands in my pockets, turned my head and smiled a bit. She told me this was my “tell” when I made up my mind to do something and I had. I will run for President again. I owe her my life in more ways that even I realize. And when I needed her once again, she came back. She’s no longer living but she is alive in me. When I need her counsel, she will give it. I know what I’ve lost now. It wasn’t a sister. Delores was the seat of my soul. That will always be mine. Therefore, she is always a part of me. 

Delores Landingham was buried today. I loved her. I love her. More importantly, maybe not more importantly, she loved me. Imagine that.

**Author's Note:**

> This is slightly canon divergent. I have Jed meeting Mrs. Landingham when he was 13, not 16.


End file.
